


The Doctor's Doctor

by Shinyunderwater



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Amnesia, Canon Compliant, Gen, Impersonation, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22510888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinyunderwater/pseuds/Shinyunderwater
Summary: The Doctor is the (wo)man who makes people better, but even they get sick sometimes. Luckily regardless of what ailments befall them the Doctor also has a Doctor. She takes her duty of care quite seriously and is always there when her friend needs a helping hand.
Relationships: Martha Jones/Thomas Milligan, Thirteenth Doctor & Martha Jones
Comments: 41
Kudos: 123





	1. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a month since the Year that Never Was, and Martha is coping as best she can, when a not so familiar face reappears in her life. The Doctor needs help, again, but Martha just might be at the end of her rope.

_ Fever, swollen lymph nodes, fatigue, shortness of breath, night sweats, weight loss and… _

"Go on then! Abandon us! Abandon your family again you spineless, pathetic-"

"Well at least Annalise never tried to manipulate our daughter to help a genocidal-"

A loud crash accompanied Francine's loud indignant response to Clive's accusation. The shouting grew louder and Martha pushed her flashcards away. She looked at her clock. It was almost midnight. Studying was a lost cause, but sleeping through the noise didn't seem likely either. Martha rubbed her eyes and headed towards the bathroom. Maybe a hot shower would make her feel better. Martha had been taking a lot of hot showers of late, long ones that she knew were bad for the environment and that a few months ( _ years? _ ) ago she never would have prolonged so much. But there hadn't been many chances to take a hot shower when she was on the run. The warm water served as a reminder that it was over, that she was safe. She reached for the doorknob and found it locked. "Tish," she said just loud enough to be heard. She didn't want to scare her sister or make her think she was angry. "You in there?"

"Just a minute."

"Take your time." Tish had always been the vibrant personable one. The Master had stolen that from her. She was quiet now. She often sat still for hours with a far away look in her eye, or curled up in the tub and sobbed. Martha didn't know what to say, how to help. Tish wouldn't open up to her.

Martha leaned her forehead against the wall and took a deep breath. She could do this. She could do anything. She'd had so much confidence a month ago when she left the TARDIS. She just needed to hold onto it. She could get through this, she could get her family through this. She just-

Martha turned around. She knew that sound. The bathroom door slammed open. Tish stood in the doorway in her pajamas, eyes wide and wild with panic. "That's him! Why is he here? What does he want?!"

Martha put up a placating hand. "It's alright. I'm sure everything is fine. I'll just go talk to him."

"But why is he  _ here _ ?!"

Martha opened her mouth to answer, but there wasn't a good response available to her. There was one way to find out the answer to Tish's question. Martha turned and began to walk back towards her room. Her heart was pounding so hard it was all she could hear. Why would the Doctor come back? Why now?  _ Does he want something from me? Again? I can't pretend I haven't missed him, but this is what I chose. I want to be with my family. I can't go running off again. I-  _ Martha walked into her room and saw the TARDIS standing there. But it looked… different somehow. She took an uncertain step forward and brushed two fingers down the door. She felt a sense of warm familiarity. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep the scent of old paper and fresh flowers.

_ Hello Martha Jones.  _ Martha's eyes snapped open and the door creaked open a crack. Martha pushed the door open the rest of the way.  _ Come inside. _

"Doc-" Martha gasped. The TARDIS was unlike she had ever seen it. Tall crystal columns reached up to a vaulted ceiling. Martha turned in a circle while her eyes widened in wonder. She felt a tear rise to her eye. "You look so beautiful."

"Bill? Is that you? Did you finish that paper on the color purple? It's a fascinating color purple, not quite red, not quite blue, a bit of both and also neither." A short blond woman with a Yorkshire accent stumbled into the control room from a hallway. She was holding onto the walls as though she were drunk. She squinted at Martha. "You shouldn't be here." She took a step forward and then pinwheeled for a second before grabbing a lever to keep herself from falling. There was a nasty grinding sound. Martha ran forward to bat the woman's hand away and put the lever back in its proper position.

"Who are you," Martha asked, with equal parts compassion and apprehension. "How did you get in here? Where's the Doctor?"

The woman grabbed Martha's arm to steady herself. The woman had a bit of weight on Martha and almost pulled her to the ground, but Martha managed to keep herself and the strange stranger upright. "You're right here Dr. Jones."

"I'm not a Doctor yet," Martha corrected.  _ And never will be if my family has anything to do with it.  _ Martha flinched away from her own dark thought. "Where's  _ the  _ Doctor? Tall alien bloke?"

The blond woman seemed offended by that question. "I may not be as tall as I was but I'm still taller than  _ you  _ Dr. Jones. I've got- what- at least three or four inches on you." The blond woman looked around. "Have you seen my wife?"

Martha was thrown, but something struck her from the woman's last two statements. "Hang on, how do you know my name? Have we- or will we- met before? Who are you?" Martha tried not to be harsh, but she was puzzled, and beginning to feel the first twinges of fear.

"We had a row. Sent me to live with some otters. They were very lovely otters, don't get me wrong, but I realized I was being an arse. We don't have a lot of time left. I should just tell her she was right. She's always right." The woman beamed, but at the same time somehow looked like she was going to cry. "I'm going to miss her so much."

"I'm sorry," Martha said. "I'm truly sorry." And she was, even if she had no idea why. "Can you tell me how you came to be here? Can you tell me how the TARDIS got to my room? Is the Doctor here? Is he in some sort of trouble?"

The woman flapped her hand. "He's always in trouble. You don't always have to clean up after him you know. It would do him a world of good to clean up his own messes once in a while."

"Please," Martha begged. "He's my friend. Just- just tell me what happened to him please."

The woman put her hand on Martha's face; Martha was too shocked to react at first. "I had so many things to say to you. I wanted to tell you everything. But when I saw you there, with a man you loved who could love you the way that you deserved… It's so hard to say goodbye. I much prefer saying hello." The woman gave Martha a drunken smile. "Hello Martha Jones, it's nice to meet you. I'm the Doctor." Then the woman's eyes rolled back in her head and Martha had to catch her before she became a puddle on the floor.

…

Tish didn't want to touch the Doctor at first when Martha dragged her out of the TARDIS doors, but after a bit of pleading and half an explanation Tish grabbed the legs while Martha lifted the torso and they got her into Martha's bed. "Wait here." Martha grabbed her medical bag and an old beat up notebook with her notes on Time Lord physiology. She returned to the Doctor's bedside to see Tish staring at her in wonder. "It's alright Tish," Martha assured her. "I'll help her."

"This is the Doctor?"

"Yes," Martha said as she pulled out a stethoscope.

"What did this to her?"

"I'm not sure yet." Martha turned to a fresh page in her notebook to record readings.

"Will it follow her here? Are we in danger?"

"No," Martha said with complete firmness even though she had no idea if her answer was true.

"Should we tell Mum and Dad?"

"No," Martha said with even more firmness. "Try to get some sleep Tish, this will all be resolved by the morning. We're safe. I promise."

Tish gave Martha a skeptical look, but she then left her sister alone with her patient. Martha listened to one of the Doctor's hearts and then to the other, making sure to record the pulses in her notebook. They were faster than she believed they should be.  _ Rat tat tat tat. Rat tat tat tat. Can you hear it Doctor? The drums. The drums.  _ Martha looked away. "Clara?" Martha's gaze snapped back to the Doctor. She was looking around in confusion. "Clara where are you?"

"Who's Clara," Martha asked.

The Doctor, and it was hard for Martha to think of her as such, even though her stethoscope had just confirmed her identity, looked at her. "Oh Martha, oh I am so sorry. I didn't understand. She doesn't see me Martha; she doesn't even see me."

Martha's felt her heart in her throat. "Who?"

"And I understand now how you felt, because I feel it to. It doesn't matter what I do, she looks at me and she just sees what I'm not. You're so much Martha Jones. You give so much. I was so selfish and cruel. You should hate me. Do you hate me?"

Martha smoothed the page of her notebook. "No," she whispered. "I don't think I ever could."

"You're so wonderful. I didn't even see you."

Martha blinked away a tear. "Well it doesn't matter now. And you've gotten past those hangups I should think. You're married now. That's exciting."

The Doctor frowned. "But Martha I-"

"Do you want some tea? Water?"

"I… Tea would be lovely."

Martha stood up. "I'll be right back."

"I see you now," the Doctor pleaded. "I see you."

Martha wrung her hands. "And what do you see?"

The Doctor looked at Martha, and she felt frozen, like a butterfly encased in amber, stuck in the flowing gaze of this ancient force. "In the morning, when the sun rises, the birds sing to let us know there will be another day. They sing for you Martha. They sing because of you. This Earth continues to revolve around the sun because of you. You power the turn of the Earth with the steps that you take, and the song that you sing."

The tears were stronger now, and Martha had to run away to prevent the Doctor from seeing them. She focused herself on the familiar task of putting the kettle on. Her father had left, and her mother retreated to her room. The kitchen was empty, and quiet but for the sound of bubbling water. Martha went into the bathroom and washed her face with hot water. The water was warm enough to sting, but it felt good. She scrubbed her face with her palms.  _ Martha Jones you saved the world.  _ But it had been hard, so hard. It had cost so much. Lives lost had been regained when time reversed, but the price Martha paid had not been refunded. The smoke of Tokyo filled her nostrils every night, and she woke up in the early hours of each morning with screams and cries echoing in her ears. The buzzing of the toclophane vibrated in her bloodstream, haunting her, taunting her.  _ Don't leave us! Don't leave us here! Get back here you selfish bitch! Help us!  _ Martha grabbed the faucet handle and turned it off with far more force than necessary. "It didn't happen. None of it happened."

Martha made the tea and put on a brave face before reentering her room. The Doctor was staring at the ceiling. Martha set the tray down on the nightstand. The Doctor ignored her, appearing deep in thought. Martha cleared her throat. The Doctor looked over. "What are you doing here?"

Martha bit back a twinge of annoyance. "You're in my bedroom," she reminded her.

The Doctor looked around. "So I am. Why?"

"You're sick. I'm trying to help you. Can you tell me what you were doing before you came here?"

"I was… with Clara. Where's she gone to?"

"I'm not sure," Martha picked up the cup of tea and offered it to the Doctor. "How did you meet?"

The Doctor shook her head. "I don't need any tea, and I don't need to be in bed." She struggled to sit up. "Stupid things beds, number one inhibitor to human progress. You lot lay about in them all day while inventions go uninvented, discoveries undiscovered, mountains unclimbed and forests unexplored. Dreams rot in beds, potential goes to seed. Mark my words, the bed will bring about the end of the human race." The Doctor put on a very pleased with herself smile.

Martha took a sip of tea. "So get out of it then."

The Doctor gave one last struggle to rise from the bed. "Well I don't seem to be able to."

Martha smiled. "So how did you meet her?"

"Who," the Doctor asked.

"Clara."

The Doctor gave her a skeptical look. "How do you know about Clara?"

"You were just telling me about her."

"I never did," the Doctor scoffed.

Martha frowned and picked up her notebook to begin jotting things down. "Doctor do you remember coming here?"

"I'm sure I do," the Doctor said. She was beginning to look nervous. "Well I must have."

"But do you  _ remember  _ it? You seem to have forgotten telling me about Clara a moment ago."

"I didn't tell you about Clara," she insisted.

"You did, you said she made you feel…" Martha trailed off, feeling awkward. "Overlooked."

The Doctor snorted with amusement. "Me? Overlooked? Preposterous. Maybe when I'm wearing a perception filter. Clara doesn't overlook me, she's a bit obsessed I should think. Not that I blame her. She's a mystery that one, a puzzle that wants solving, and I'm just the one to crack her, clever boy that I am." The Doctor grinned at Martha. "So how have you been Dr. Jones? How's the husband? Still an idiot?" Martha closed her notebook with slow deliberate motions. She felt queasy. A sense of foreboding fell over her like a grim cloak. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Cats can be vicious, trust me I know."

"I think there might be a neurological component to your condition. Impaired coordination, muscle weakness, decreased awareness and now short term memory loss. Possibly long term as well."

The Doctor frowned. "What are you going on about? My mind is as sharp as ever, which is quite a bit sharper than most anyone else could ever dream." The Doctor smiled at that thought.

"What do you look like?"

"What?" The Doctor seemed perturbed by the question.

"What do you look like and what are you wearing?"

"Maybe you're the one not feeling well if you can't even see what I'm wear-"

"Doctor!" A bit of impatience leaked into Martha's voice. "Please just answer the question."

"Alright," she said. "No need to get huffy. I'm six feet tall, devilishly handsome, brown hair, nice suit, and I'm wearing a bow tie. Bow ties are cool," she said the last bit in a conspiratorial tone.

"You're five and a half feet tall, blond hair, earrings and a rainbow scarf." Sensing the Doctor would disagree, and she was already sputtering her distention, Martha stood up to get a handheld mirror from her vanity. She brought it over to the Doctor. "I like it," Martha assured her.

"I'm a woman!"

"Apparently," Martha said.

The Doctor dropped the mirror into her lap. "Still not ginger though," she said. "Shame."

"You don't remember regenerating?"

"No. No I was with River…"

"River? What happened to Clara?"

The Doctor frowned. "Who?"

"Clara. You were just talking about her."

"Clara. I don't know a Clara. Sort of a funny name though. Clara." She rolled the name around in her mouth like she was tasting it. "I don't like it."

Martha grabbed her notebook again. "I need to take a look at your head. I wish I had an MRI. Do you still have your psychic paper? Maybe I could pose as a Doctor and we could sneak you into a hospital long enough to take a look at-"

"You are a doctor," the Doctor interrupted.

"Not yet," Martha said, a twinge of wistful regret in her voice. "Maybe never," she blurted out without meaning to. She shook the thought away. "We need to take a look at the damage."

"If it's an MRI you need I have one in the TARDIS," the Doctor said. "Unless I took it apart to build an EZ Bake oven. But I probably didn't. Although I might have done. I can't say it's something I wouldn't do," she concluded.

"Let's take a look," Martha suggested.

"Yes let's do that," the Doctor agreed.

…

Martha fiddled with the controls while the Doctor lay in bed, deep in an uncharacteristic spell of silence. "I don't think I've ever heard you go this long without speaking before," Martha teased.

"Can you forgive me," the Doctor whispered.

Martha's hands stilled. "For what?"

"I didn't want to hurt her. She's my best friend. We were going to travel the stars, forever. I destroyed her, hurt her even worse than I did you. Tall order that. You must hate me," the Doctor whispered.

"Who are you talking about," Martha asked.

"I'm alone now. Rose is happy, and you will be to, and even her, but I… I deserve to be alone."

Martha reached out and gripped her hand. "No, you don't. You're a good person- well good alien."

The Doctor gave her a mournful smile. "I'm thick is what I am. And I think… I think I might be dying. There's a prophecy. He will knock four times."  _ Rat tat tat tat. Rat tat tat tat.  _ "I don't want to die Martha. Will you help me?"

Martha wrapped both of her hands around one of the Doctor's. "I will. I promise."

"You always take care of me." The Doctor smiled at her. "The Doctor's Doctor."

Martha brushed a lock of blond hair out of the Doctor's face. "This shouldn't hurt."

"I trust you," the Doctor said as she closed her eyes. Martha turned the machine on. Martha wasn't sure what she was scared of more, finding something or finding nothing. Finding nothing would bring them back to square one, but what if she found something and it wasn't something she could fix? What if the Doctor continued to deteriorate before her eyes, eventually forgetting her and everyone else she'd ever known until her mind was a blank slate? Martha frowned at the screen.  _ Well that's not nothing.  _ Martha yanked out her notebook and began some furious transcription. She looked at the data tables and gasped out loud. Martha turned the machine off.

As the Doctor emerged from the MRI Martha tried to put on a brave face. "Hey," she said.

"Martha?" The Doctor sat up. She rubbed her head. "What are you doing here? I left you at your apartment." The Doctor pinched her nose. "I feel like I'm going to be sick."

"You-" Martha stopped.  _ My apartment?  _ "What do you mean you left me at my apartment?"

The Doctor gave her a confused look. "We left New York and I took you back to your apartment."

"Old New York? With the Daleks and all?"  _ This doesn't make any sense. _

"Yes," the Doctor said. "Don't remind me."

"But… You came back. You came right back."

"No I didn't."

Martha felt frustration mount in her, more than frustration, she felt fury. "Yes, you did," she said with a calm yet hard tone. "The TARDIS dematerialized and then it came right back. You started going on about what Lazarus said on the telly. I remember. I was there."

The Doctor shook her head. "No. No I left and went to the distant moon of the immaterial planet. That was quite an adventure, you would have liked it. Much better than when we were on the moon. No Judoon. No plasmavores."

_ He didn't come right back. He left me. He left and he went on all sorts of adventures without me. The only reason he came back was because something reminded him of what Lazarus said and he got curious. That's it. It was never about me. He didn't care about me.  _ Martha shoved her notebook away and stood up. "Right." She tried to control her breathing, but she felt like she might start hyperventilating. She was angry, so angry.

"Martha? Your face just went all weird."

"Oh! Did it? Did my face just go all weird?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, yeah."  _ Everything I did for you, and you never cared about me. You didn't come back for me. You didn't want to travel with me. You just didn't want to be alone. You  _ **_never_ ** _ cared about me. _

"Are you sure?"

"Oh go to hell."

"What?"

"You come here, after all this time, after, after everything, not to check on me, not because you were concerned about me, but because you need something from me. You  _ always  _ need something from me. And I'm sick of it! I'm so bloody sick to death of you and your needs. What about me?!"

The Doctor looked confused. "What about you?"

Martha felt like she'd been slapped in the face. "You don't remember, but that doesn't make it okay. You had no right to come here, to ask me to care for you, when you have never,  _ never _ , cared for me. You had  _ no _ right." Martha closed her eyes to hold back tears. "But that doesn't matter. Because I accepted the responsibility. You're my patient, and I may not be a Doctor yet, but I believe in the oath and I will abide by it. But when this is done, when I've healed you, get out and don't  _ ever  _ come back."

The Doctor stared at Martha like she had three heads. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Martha turned the computer monitor so the Doctor could see the MRI. "Do you see that bit there? That heat signature? That's your body's healing energy trying to repair your brain. And do you see that bit there? It's a parasite, eating away at your cognitive functions. It's killing you, and you're fighting back, but you're losing." Martha picked her notebook back up. "If I could examine the parasite maybe I could find a way to get rid of it, but I won't risk just cutting into your head and potentially making everything so much worse. I need to get a sample from the source…" Martha dropped her book and ran for the TARDIS console room. The Doctor didn't remember what had happened to her, but the TARDIS might.

"Martha! Martha wait!"

Martha ran up to a monitor and began to fiddle with the controls. She pulled up the logs of the TARDIS's recent destinations. "Sheffield? I don't think you caught an alien parasite on Sheffield. Let's see where you were just before."

"Martha stop." The Doctor ran into the room out of breath and trembling. "You need to stop this. You don't know what you're doing."

"Take us back to this planet. I'll get a sample of the parasite and run some tests on it. Maybe I can find something that will destroy it but be harmless to you."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to let you expose yourself to a deadly parasite."

_ Martha Jones.  _ Martha looked up. "Hello."

"What are you doing Martha?"

_ It's this button here. And then that lever.  _ "Thank you," Martha said as she reached for the controls.

"Martha stop!"

_ Be careful. _

…

Martha wondered if there was anything the TARDIS wardrobe  _ didn't  _ have. She checked the seal on her hazmat suit once more before opening the door and stepping out into an unknown world. She stared. It was beautiful. A violet sky hung like a canopy over rich translucent trees covered in multicolored vines. From the black sand under her feet sprouted bushes full of colorful fruits. Small sleek rodents feasted on the fruits, their crimson cheeks puffed out with sweet meat. Martha stepped out into the wilderness. She lifted the contraption in her hand. The Doctor had once used this device to track temporal energy, but Martha recalibrated it to search for the heat signature the creature in the Doctor's brain gave off. She looked at the screen. "Right, this way."

_ I'm having a thought. _

Martha froze. "Hello?"

_ It's a delicious thought. _

"Is somebody there?"

_ I know who you are. You're… Martha Jones. I hear the song of a nightingale. Hello Dr. Jones. _

"I'm not a Doctor yet," she whispered. "Who are you? Where are you?"

_ I am in you, in your friend, in the creatures that eat fresh fruits, in the bacteria that lives in the water, in the mites that bats feast on. I am in every living thing, in your thoughts, your fears, your pain, oh so much pain. But I bring the end of pain. _

Martha shivered. "You infected the Doctor."

_ She wanted to meet me. Now we are such good friends. She is giving me herself. I see you Martha Jones. I kissed you so that the Judoon would find my spit on your lips. You liked it. _

Martha felt sick. "Where are you? Show yourself!"

_ You are in pain. So many responsibilities. School and family at war with one another. Beholden to many, stretched so thin. You just want to rest. _

"No I'm fine actually."

_ Liar! _

Martha flinched with pain as the shout ripped through her head. "Got a set of lungs on you, or you know, whatever the psychic equivalent is."

_ You want to meet me too. _

"Yep, sure do." Martha rubbed her temple. "So one last time. Where are you?"

_ Come and see. _

Marthe saw one of the translucent trees light up, and then another, and then another. She swallowed her fear and took a step forward to follow the path laid out for her. Martha pulled the containment box out of her pocket. She just needed a small sample and then she could leave what had transformed from a beautiful place to an unsettling one. Then she could find a cure for the Doctor and the alien would be out of her life forever.  _ Why doesn't that make me feel better? She hurt me, but she is my friend.  _ Martha mulled over these thoughts until she came to the last tree, which was concealed by a large sheet of moss draped over it. She stepped forward to move the moss aside, but then stopped, weary. "Come out."

_ I'm right here. _

Martha took a step back. She felt something soft under her foot sink into the sand. Martha frowned and bent down to pick it up. It was a pickle and cheese sandwich wrapped in plastic _._ Martha wrinkled her nose. It must have been there for a while because it was covered in mold. Except that wasn't mold, it was- _moss_. Martha's head shot up. The sheet of moss was inching towards her. Martha slammed the sandwich into the containment box and then turned around and ran.

_ Dr. Jones. Dr. Jones. Where are you going? Come back. Come back. Be my friend. _

Martha ran and ran, and she did not look behind her.  _ Please. Please. Please. Please.  _ She reached into her pocket and tried to grab the TARDIS key, although her fingers were clumsy inside the thick suit. The TARDIS came into view and the doors burst open. Martha could have cried as she all but leapt inside. The doors slammed shut behind her and a strange mist began to fill the console room. Martha wasn't afraid. She knew it was the TARDIS decontaminating everything, protecting them. "Thank you," she whispered as she sank to her knees and began to sob.

…

Martha entered the lab with the containment box, but she was a few steps from the door when a hand landed on her shoulder and yanked her back. "Oh!" Martha's heart began to pound as she almost dropped the containment box. She gripped it tighter as she turned to face the Doctor. "You should be resting," she told the Doctor, whose eyes were full of fury.

"And why is that? Better question, why are you on my ship and how did you get in?" The Doctor folded her arms and glowered at Martha.

_ She doesn't even know me now.  _ She thought that shouldn't hurt, but it  _ did _ . "Doctor I'm your…"  _ Friend?  _ "I'm here to help you. You're sick. You have a parasite eating your brain and your memories. Look around." Martha gestured at the changed interior. "The TARDIS has changed, but you've forgotten. You've forgotten me too, but you  _ can _ trust me. I'm here to help you."

The Doctor gestured to the containment box. "What's in there then?"

"It's a sample of what infected you. I'm going to examine it and see if there's a way to destroy it without harming you."

The doctor bent over and squinted at it. "Looks like a sandwich. Ugh. Cheese and pickle? Is that what I'm eating these days?" She wrinkled her nose. It was somewhat adorable.

"I guess so."

"Dreadful. And where are Rose and Jack?"

Martha felt a pang in her heart. "Jack is in Cardiff." She shifted her feet in discomfort.

"And Rose?" The Doctor's voice was soft.

"She's gone. She's alive, but… gone."

"Ah. And I travel with you now?"

"No." Martha shook her head. "Not… Not for some time. It's been, for you, quite a long time I think. You've regenerated. You even told me you got married." Martha chuckled. "It's only been a month for me, but I think it's been a very long time for you." Martha looked away.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said.

"For what?"

"For whatever I did to you."

Martha laughed. "How do you know you did something," she asked.

"I've known myself a long time, gotten familiar with my own habits and patterns. I am sorry."

Martha met her gaze. "I forgive you."

The Doctor tilted her head. "Just like that?"

"What are friends for?" Martha remembered the pain and suffering the Doctor had subjected her to. She had never gotten a real apology, and this apology from a future version of the Doctor who didn't remember their shared past was a pitiful substitute, but Martha found she didn't care. It was nice to hear, and cathartic to be able to grant forgiveness. Martha found some of the sickness that had been curled in her gut since her long walk begin to dissipate.

The Doctor nodded toward the box. "Do you need help with that?"

Martha shook her head. "I think the best course of action right now is for me to work on this and you to get some rest. If I make any headway I'll come find you though. Promise."

The Doctor nodded. "Thank you- I just realized I don't know your name. That's to say I forgot it."

"Martha. Martha Jones."

"Martha Jones. I like that." The Doctor smiled. "Thank you Martha Jones." The Doctor turned around and began to walk away.

"You're welcome," Martha whispered, ignoring the tear rising in her eye.

…

Martha rubbed her eyes as she looked over the latest figures. "Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!" She shoved the results away from her. This moss was a resilient piece of work. She would almost admire it for its deadly elegance if not for the havoc it had inflicted on the Doctor's mind. She dropped her head into her hands. "What am I gonna do?"

"Surrender," said a quiet, but stern, Yorkshire accent. Martha turned around. "So, Daleks are using human agents now. Are there any depths that you won't sink to? What do you do? Hollow them out and put radio transmitters in their heads?"

"Doctor." Martha stood up, weary. "It's me."

"How did you get on my ship?"

"You gave me a key," she told her.

"You're a liar," she growled. The Doctor took slow deliberate steps towards Martha, and Martha felt a cold hand of fear wrap around her heart. "What do you hope to accomplish here? It won't work."

"I hope to help you," Martha whispered.

"Help me to an early grave perhaps?" The Doctor's hands sprung forward like a striking snake and shoved Martha's work onto the floor, where glass shattered and paper turned to pulp in puddles of chemicals. "What do you want from me?!"

Martha jumped to her feet, but before she could respond the Doctor grabbed her wrists and squeezed hard. "Ah! Stop it! That hurts!"

"I've no sympathy for the feelings of daleks," she hissed, her face pushed in close to Martha's.

Martha pulled against the Doctor's grip, but her hands squeezed tighter. Martha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She tugged one last valiant tug, and then rushed forward, slamming her shoulder into the Doctor's chest. The Doctor stumbled and released Martha so she could grab something to steady herself. Martha ran. She took off down the hall with no direction in mind, until she saw an open door and threw herself through it. The door slammed shut behind her. Martha grabbed a bar to steady herself and tried to calm her frantic breathes. "I'm sorry. I tried."

_ She's dying. _

"I know. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so…" Martha sank to her knees and began to sob. "I can't save her."

_ Not this time. Thank you for trying. _

"What's going to happen to her?"

_ She'll regenerate. It's time. It's never a fun experience, but she will still be the Doctor. _

Martha looked around the room, at the coats, the suits, the dresses, the scarves, the many many pounds of fabric all reminders of stories told and ones yet to be lived. "It's not time. Not for her. Not today. I'll save her. I will. She's my patient." Resolved, Martha got to her feet and gripped the handle of the door. It wouldn't turn. Martha let out a breath of exasperation. "Let me out."

_ She'll hurt you. After, she will grieve. When she regenerates she'll remember, and her pain will echo through my halls.  _ The lights in the room brightened, and Martha saw a puddle of dark fabric on the floor. It was familiar to her. It was a maid's uniform.  _ Wait here until it's safe. _

"Until she's dead you mean?"

_ You did all you could. _

"I can do more! Open the door!" Martha slammed her shoulder against the door and it sprung open, causing her to stumble into the hall.

"Hello," a pained voice said. The Doctor was sitting in the hall, leaned against the wall, struggling to breathe. "I'm the Doctor."

Martha knelt down. "Hello Doctor. I'm Martha."

"I was on my ship. I was going to go on an adventure. It was going to be grand."

"It will be." Martha brushed a blond lock behind the Doctor's ear. "I promise it will be so grand."

"Have you seen Grace? She was… somewhere."

"I think I did. I think she'll be here soon."

The Doctor grinned. "You're lying. I'm dying and you're lying." The Doctor chuckled like that was some delicious joke. "You're trying to be kind to me. Why are you doing that?" She smiled.

"Because…" Martha sniffled. "Because you're my friend."

"I am? Am I a good one?"

Martha laughed through her tears. "No, no you're a rubbish one, but you're my friend and I love you and I want to help you. I want to save you."

The Doctor reached up and took Martha's hand. She gave it a gentle affectionate squeeze. "That's not your responsibility Martha."

"No," Martha agreed. "No it isn't." She leaned down and kissed the Doctor on the forehead. "But I'm going to do it anyway, you just watch me."

The Doctor chuckled. "Well good for you Martha! Best of luck. I assure you I'm rooting for you."

"Put your arm around me," Martha said. "We'll get you somewhere to rest, and I'll get back to work."

"As you say." The Doctor complied, and once Martha had her on her feet she noticed a door that looked familiar. She reached for the handle. The door opened into her old room, just as she had left it, with the exceptions that a book she had left open on an unmade bed was put away on the shelf and the sheets were tucked in. "What room is this?"

"Mine," Martha whispered. "You kept it."

"You won't mind me resting here?"

"Not in the slightest." Martha pulled back the red silk sheets and tucked the Doctor in. "Try to stay in bed alright? You need to rest."

"I'm not much good at keeping still, but for you I will make the most valiant of efforts."

Martha smoothed the sheets. "Thank you."

…

Martha rubbed her eyes. She was so tired, but there was no time for rest. She examined the molecular structure of the moss, using heat, chemicals and even radiation to test the limits of its endurance. Yet even compounds that would be lethal to the Doctor the moss managed to withstand. The only limited success she had found was with a compound so toxic Martha would never risk exposing the Doctor to it. The door to the lab slammed open and the Doctor stumbled inside. She was sweating, her moist hair sticking to the side of her face. She was wan and trembling. She used the wall to support herself as she drew nearer. Martha looked at her with weary apprehension. She had no idea what this version of the Doctor would bring. "Hello young lady. Would you mind telling me how you got on my ship? And after that, would you be so kind as to undertake an expedited departure?"

"Doctor-"

The Doctor fell to her knees. Martha rushed forward to catch her before she could land face first on the ground. "The Master doesn't have to win. You can make your own decisions. You don't have to be his pawn." The Doctor laughed a horse mirthless laugh. "Trust me, I know."

"Doctor-"

"But it's not so simple Sarah. Please understand. I-" The Doctor let out a shriek of pain. "I don't want to go home! I want to stay here! I don't belong there! I'm not one of them!"

Martha felt like her heart was gripped in a vise, one that was being turned with excruciating slowness. "Doctor it's alright. I'm here."

The Doctor locked eyes with her. "Susan?"

"Doctor I-"

"Susan I should never have left you behind."

Martha felt her heart cracking and shattering. "It's alright Doctor. You're going to be okay." Martha got to her feet and turned back to her work.

"I'm a thief. I'm an outlaw. I'm a pariah to my people and I should be ashamed, so why don't I care?" Martha picked up a syringe.  _ I have no idea if this is going to work. It might just kill the Doctor, but we're out of time. _ Martha turned around. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry."

The Doctor started to scramble back. "Susan!"

"I just need you to know," Martha pleaded as tears streamed down her face. "That you are loved. You are loved by so many people in so many ways."

"Please-!"

Martha lunged for the Doctor and slammed the syringe into her chest. The Doctor screamed loud and long. She grabbed Martha's arms and shoved her backwards. Martha's head hit the edge of the table, and then there was darkness.

…

Martha had never heard such a beautiful lullaby in all her life. She looked up to see a woman with long dark curls in a dress of impossible blue with silver stars swirling within it carding her fingers through Martha's hair. Martha's head was in her lap as the woman continued to sing in a language Martha did not know. "Thank you Martha."

"It's you. You're the TARDIS."

The woman smiled and nodded. "Yes love."

"Will she be alright?"

The woman lowered her head and kissed Martha on the brow. "My nightingale."

Martha gasped as she woke up. "Doc! Doc she's awake! Hey there cockle it's alright." An older man was leaning over Martha as she lay in her bed, the familiar soft silk sheets smoothe against her skin. "It's okay. You're fine."

The door slammed open and the Doctor came running inside. "Martha! Martha, oh Martha."

"That's my name," Martha mumbled.

The Doctor ran forward and grabbed Martha's hand. "What happened," the Doctor asked.

Martha tilted her head in confusion. "What?"

"When I was infected by the fungal parasite I took Ryan, Graham and Yaz back home so they'd be safe, but I don't remember what happened after that. They told me I took off. Next thing I remember is waking up in the TARDIS infirmary, back on the planet where I was infected, but you were there too with a head injury."

Martha sat up in bed. "You don't remember anything?" She felt a twinge of annoyance despite her joy that the Doctor was cured.

The Doctor shook her head. "No."

"Is this a real not remembering, or like when you pretended not to remember what I said to you in 1913 so you wouldn't have to address it?"

The Doctor's eyes widened in shock. "What?"

_ I shouldn't have said anything. I should just keep quiet about everything that happened. Except… The hell with it. No I shouldn't!  _ Martha took a deep breath. "I'll tell you what happened then. I'll tell you everything, starting with the moment you left." Martha hesitated a bit in the beginning of her story, but in time she gained momentum. She told the Doctor all about her sister's panic attacks, her brother avoiding the family and not even letting his parents around his baby because 'lately you've all turned into a bunch of loons' and the way her studies had suffered from all the sleepless nights. Then she got into the Doctor's return and all the fraught emotions that had stirred. Her story was done by the time she became aware other people had entered the room and she had twice the audience she had realized. But she didn't care. Her story was told and it felt so good to have it out.

The Doctor looked at the ground. Her new companions exchanged glances with one another. They looked uncomfortable. "Doctor-" the young woman whose name Martha didn't know started to say.

"Can you give us a minute," the Doctor asked her friends.

They exchanged some more glances, but they cleared the room. Martha rubbed her head. "I-"

"You should have let me die."

Martha started. "What?"

"I had no right to come to you for help, no right to put you in danger. After everything I put you through and everything you did for me it was beyond selfish for me to ask for more. Now I'm at a loss, because thank you and I'm sorry don't seem good enough. They can't even begin to cover it."

Martha stared at her. "Do you really believe that I could ever just let you die? Putting aside the fact that we're friends and I care about you, it goes against every single one of my personal values and the tenants of my chosen profession."

"I know," the Doctor said. "I hurt you again. It seems I always am. Is there anything I can do to ease some of the pain I've caused you?"

Martha looked the Doctor up and down, her friend, the best and worst thing to ever happen to her. "Do you still have my phone?"

The Doctor pulled an old flip phone out of her pocket. "Do you want it back?"

That question hurt. "If I call it, will you answer?"

"Always," the Doctor promised. Then she stopped, her eyes far off. "Well, I will always do my best."

"I need some time I think, some space, but you know, the boring earth kind. But one day, when I've gotten my life pulled together, I'll call."

The Doctor grinned. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"You are one of the cleverest, loveliest, kindest people I have ever known. Meeting you saved my life, in more ways than one. Your future is going to be so beautiful Martha."

Martha blinked back a tear. "I know you're right here, but is it weird that I miss you? I wish I could have said goodbye before you changed."

"You will," the Doctor whispered. Martha blinked at the Doctor in confusion. "Let's get you home."

…

The Doctor wore a bittersweet expression when she walked her friend to the door of the TARDIS and then waved at her as she departed. The bittersweet turned more melancholy as she set their coordinates, and once they were in the vortex she pulled out an old beat up cellphone at least a decade behind the times and stared at it. Ryan looked at Graham and nodded towards the Doctor. Graham pointed at Ryan and then the Doctor. Ryan held up a fist and shook it a few times, inviting a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Yaz rolled her eyes. "Who was that woman Doctor?"

The Doctor turned to face them. "That was Martha Jones, the woman who walked the Earth. She saved all our lives, this whole planet, once. There was a time when everyone on the planet knew her name. But they forgot. She's brilliant." The Doctor opened the phone and dialed a number. "Hello, Brigadier? Yes it's me. Me. How many me's do you know? Listen, what year is it? Excellent, in thirty years I need you to offer a woman a job."

Yaz raised her brow at her friends, but they just shrugged. Who could understand the ways of the Doctor?


	2. 12 Part 1 (ft. The Time Agent Subsequently Known as Captain Jack Harkness)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When unexplained vortex energy is detected in London Martha Jones is asked to investigate. What she finds is another, bigger mystery which will bring her to Bristol, and perhaps to far less pleasant places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was supposed to be a one shot, and now it's a three parter. I'm sorry, it's a sickness. This takes places after the Doctor's Daughter but before Journey's End. From Martha's POV anyway.

_ Silk, lace, chiffon, satin, tulle _ -

"Hey babe, listen to this. This couple in Cornwall had their wedding catered by Domino's," Tom said as he nudged her foot with his own, distracting her from the bridal magazine she'd been perusing before bed.

"Our mums would love that," she said with a bright grin and thick sarcasm. She lowered the magazine to look over at him. He was scrolling through his phone with no shirt on, sheet and covers pushed off because he claimed the flat was always too hot.

"We could do a buffet though. That way we don't have to worry about my sister's new gluten 'intolerance' or whatever that fad diet your brother's girlfriend just started is. No special plates, just: here's the food and take what you want." He smiled at her and then gave her a suggestive look, as though food was the last thing he wanted.

Martha shrugged. She tossed the magazine onto her nightstand and let out a long exasperated breath. "We should elope."

"That really would make my mum go mental," Tom said with a chuckle. "C'mon Martha it's not that bad. I thought women were supposed to love wedding planning?" He put his arm around her and scooted closer to her on the mattress. "Just think, soon you'll be walking down the aisle in that fancy white dress, all your friends staring on in envy. Look at that handsome bloke she's marrying-"

Martha gave him a playful smack on the shoulder and shook her head. "I'm marrying you because I love you, not because I'm one of those mad women that need a 'dream wedding' with a fourteen story cake and Chris Martin singing at the reception-"

"Oh do you think we could get him," Tom teased her with a mock excited tone. "If we do the Domino's catering we can put the money we save towards the entertainment budget!"

Martha bit her lip to hold in a laugh. "Why am I marrying you again," she asked him.

"Because I'm the love of your life?"

"So does that mean I need to break things off with Chris Martin then?" She batted her eyelashes at him as though she were a naive yet cunning seductress.

He burst out laughing. "Only if he says no to playing at the reception," Tom told her.

"Yep, I'll ask him about it at our next illicit rendezvous," she promised him.

"Thanks babe," he said. He leaned in closer and kissed her. He tasted like mint toothpaste. She kissed him back and forgot all about the stress of wedding planning. She was with the man she loved, and no matter what happened with the wedding their marriage would be spectacular.

They were in the middle of things when Martha's phone went off, the special ringtone she kept changing and Jack kept hacking into her phone to change back. "Damn," Martha said as Right Said Fred started singing about how he was too sexy to keep his shirt on.

"Chris calling asking you to come over," Tom asked in an offhand tone without even slowing down his movements.

Martha laughed as she reached for the phone. He laughed with her, and she could feel their shared vibrations. "It's work. I'm just going to see if it's an emergency."

"Why is that the ringtone for work?"

She opened the phone. "Just one particular coworker with a sad maturity deficiency. Hello Jack, how are you love?"

"Are you having sex right now?"

Martha raised a brow. She didn't know why she was surprised. If anyone would be able to tell whether or not someone was having sex just by the sound of their voice it would be Jack Harkness. "Please tell me that's not what you called me to ask." She felt a nibbling sensation on her ear and forced herself not to react. Of all the people who might ruin a sexual encounter for her Jack Harkness was the last person she'd expect to do so.

"No, there's an emergency I need looked into, but we're too… short-staffed for me to go." That statement sobered her. She put her hand on Tom's chest and he stopped at once. She closed her eyes as she remembered standing in the Hub, doing an autopsy on poor Toshiko while Jack looked on. She'd called in every favor to keep UNIT out of Cardiff in the aftermath. Jack said the situation was resolved and she believed him. He was going through enough without getting caught up in a bureaucratic inquiry. She remembered coming home after a week in Cardiff and bawling. Tom had done his best to comfort her without even knowing why.

"Of course I'll help."

"It might be nothing," he hastened to say. "It's just I'm a little stuck at the moment. If I leave and there's a weevil attack Gwen or Ianto would have to handle it alone, which is already bad, and then if something happens there would only be one person here…"

"Jack, just tell me what you need."

"I picked up on some unique energy, vortex energy, in London. I know it's a big ask, but I-"

"Send me the coordinates and I'll be on my way there." She looked up at Tom and mouthed 'sorry' at him.

"There's a slight possibility that the vortex energy is-"

"Our mutual friend," Martha finished. A part of her wondered if that was the real reason Jack didn't want to go.

"So it might be best not to involve UNIT until we know the full story," Jack cautioned.

Martha agreed. UNIT had a lot of respect for the Doctor, and they had been quite appreciative of his help against the Sontarans. None the less they also had a tendency to turn problems into bigger problems when they encountered things they didn't understand. It was something Martha was trying to change about the organization as she moved up the ranks. Until she made more progress however she agreed with Jack. It'd be best not to involve them unless it was necessary. "I'll keep you updated."

"I don't want you to put yourself in danger. If there's a threat call me right aw-"

"I'll call you when I get there." Martha hung up her phone and locked eyes with her disappointed fiance. "Are you mad at me?"

"You have to go to work?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "But not… you know, right this second." She ran a hand up his arm.

"How long have we got?"

She bit her lip. She figured a few minutes shouldn't make a big difference, especially if it was just the Doctor dropping Donna off for a family visit. "Ten minutes," she told him.

"That's it?"

"Make it count."

…

Martha checked the coordinates again and got out of her car, moving slow and with great caution. She stood in front of the empty lot and fiddled with her torch, hesitant to turn it on. She didn't see the TARDIS. If there was anyone out there a light would give her position away for sure. She took a few steps forward, but stopped when she heard a voice.

"The fugitive was definitely here," a familiar voice said, coming from behind a spot of darkness that could be some sort of structure. "She isn't anymore though. I'll expand search parameters, but I might be in the wrong part of the timeline. Oh believe me, I will be taking it up with HQ. Of course I'm going to confirm; this may be a waste of time, but if I get sent back again for having an incomplete report it will be an ever bigger waste of time."

Martha couldn't believe what she was hearing. With every word she became more certain she knew that voice. That was Jack talking, but he was in Cardiff. For him to have gotten to this location before her would have to mean he was almost there when he called her, but why would he lie to her? Martha stepped closer to the structure, which she now saw was a pile of scorched wood.

"Signing off." A figure jumped from behind the stack of wood, shining a light in Martha's eyes and blinding her. "Stop right there!"

"Gah! Jack! Bloody hell, stop that!"

"Don't move. Identify yourself."

Martha dropped her torch and raised her hands to shield her eyes. "Jack it's me! Lower your torch! I can't see anything!"

The light disappeared at the same time two rough hands grabbed her wrists and forced them down. She blinked in surprise as she saw Jack's face, close to hers, staring deep into her eyes. He wasn't wearing his coat, which for some odd reason struck her as the strangest part of this whole perplexing situation. He was wearing clothes that made perfect sense for the time and location, jeans and a t-shirt with a windbreaker on top. It was so incongruous to everything she knew about Jack. Here was a man trying to blend in, when her Captain loved nothing more but to stand out. "What's your name," he demanded.

"You're hurting me," she whispered as she tried in vain to yank her arms free.

He squeezed tighter, so she stopped struggling. "Tell me who you are."

"You first," she retorted. "By what authorization do you question me?"

Jack seemed surprised by that question and in his shock he loosened his grip a bit. Martha yanked downward, freeing her arms, but she made no attempt to run away. "By what right and in whose name do you claim jurisdiction," she snapped at him. She remembered reading once that when facing a bear one should attempt to make themselves seem bigger and more intimidating than the predator. Martha decided to attempt the bureaucratic version of that. She crossed her arms and glared at him, doing her best to look unafraid and very inconvenienced. "Well?"

"I uh… I'm with the Agency," Jack said.

That was when it all clicked. Jack wasn't acting like himself because he wasn't Jack. This was the time agent who would one day lose his memories and become her beloved Captain Jack. He'd told her a bit about that part of his past, but not much. She got the impression he didn't like to think about it, much less talk about it. All the same she felt like meeting her in his past would've come up. 

All of this went through her head in a second, but every second counted. She had to roll with this new information. There was no time to strategize. She who hesitates is lost, and if her facade as an authority figure slipped she'd never be able to regain it.

"Oh that's just what I need, another overzealous Time Agent mucking about in established history. I bet you don't even have the proper paperwork, do you cowboy?" She frowned, trying to channel her most disapproving med school professor.

"This extraction is completely authorized Miss…" He gave her an expectant look.

"You don't need to know my name," Martha reprimanded him. Her heart was beating so hard and so fast she was sure not-Jack would hear it, but of course he didn't. "Who is it you're looking for then? If you're planning on interfering in established events I'll need to contact your superiors at once."

"No interfering," not-Jack assured her. He put on his most winning smile, the one her Jack used to charm uncooperative witnesses. The smile made it hard for her to keep the two men separate in her mind. "I'm just verifying that the fugitive is no longer in this part of the timestream. I have strict no footprint orders."

Martha scoffed. "Do you think you're the first time agent to promise me that? Orders received and orders followed don't always line up. Not to mention you still haven't told me the name of your supposed fugitive."

"Right," not-Jack said. "Well I've been tracking her for a while. She has a few aliases, not to mention various faces, but the name she goes by the most is the Master."

Martha kept her face still and unresponsive. In her chest she felt her heart stop for a moment that stretched on and on. She felt like she couldn't breathe. Then the moment ended and she forced herself to put on a contemptuous smile. When this was over she resolved to get drunk. A person could handle only so much trauma in a single night.

"Well you're too late. The Master is dead." As the words not-Jack had said played on a loop in her mind the smile melted into a frown. "And what do you mean she," Martha asked.

Not-Jack stared at Martha in confusion. "What do you mean she's dead? My investigation has found that her species can regenerate. At the last place I was able to confirm her presence she was presenting as a woman."

"The Master chose not to regenerate. He- she- they, infiltrated a government on this planet and was elected prime minister. He was killed during a thwarted invasion and chose not to regenerate in order to avoid capture." Martha thought back to that day, to the Doctor cradling the Master in his arms and weeping. She thought of her family watching this tender display after spending a year in servitude, enslaved if she was being honest with herself. She thought of the torture Jack- Jack! She stared at not-Jack.

If she was correct in her understanding this version of Jack was before her version of Jack. Jack hadn't known who the Master was during their initial adventure, and he certainly hadn't known how it was all going to end. Yet this man knew a lot about the Master, and she had just told him facts about their future together. She schooled her features again, but it was too late. Not-Jack had witnessed how unsettled she had been for a moment.

"What?"

"Just…" Her mind raced. "I'm not one to take the reports of time agents without a grain of salt, but if there's a chance that you are correct and the Master is still alive… That is worth investigating. You'll need proper supervision of course. I'll contact my office and have you temporarily authorized to be in this timeframe. All dependent on you following my orders of course." She'd let her mask slip, and she felt she needed to compensate.

Not-Jack seemed to buy it. "This is why I hate coming to the twenty-first century. So many rules and regulating agencies. Nobody cares what you get up to in 3208, but 2008, forget about it." He shook his head in exasperation.

"Well the twenty-first century is when everything changes," Martha said without really thinking about it, quoting something Jack had said to her many times.

Not-Jack rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let's just get this over with." He started to walk towards her car. "Are we taking your transport?"

Martha turned around and started to power walk after him. Then she slowed. People with authority don't run, she reminded herself. They don't need to. She reduced to a brisk, but unconcerned pace. When she got to her car, not-Jack's shadowed form was leaning against the passenger door. "Well let's-"

Not-Jack cut her off by whirling around and leveling his blaster at her. His elbow rested on top of the car, and he used both hands to maintain a perfect steady aim. Martha didn't let her concern show. She met his gaze and saw the fury blazing in his eyes. He took one hand off the weapon and held out a photo for her to look at. Her heart sank. He must have gotten it from the stack of pictures tucked into her sun visor. There she was, gowned up for an autopsy, while Jack dipped her and she laughed. Ianto had taken the picture.

Martha remembered how later, when the music was turned down and the autopsy complete, she had found Ianto and asked him why he took the picture. He had told her he thought Jack would like it for his box of photos. She had asked for a copy too, and Ianto had been more than happy to give her one. She wished she had a picture of Tosh and Owen. She hoped Jack had one; she was sure he must.

"What's this?"

"It's called a photograph."

"Don't play games with me! No more of your lies, now talk!" Not-Jack glared at her with disgust, but she knew the disgust was more aimed towards himself. She knew it must rankle him to have been deceived.

"It doesn't matter what I say. You think I'm a liar now, so no matter what I say you'll assume it to be a lie," she told him. She tried not to imagine what that blaster could do to her body if he fired it. She reached for the handle of the driver's side door and watched his hand tense like he was preparing to fire.

She who hesitates is lost, she reminded herself. She opened the door, and she met his hard gaze. "Are we going, or are we just going to stand here all night," she demanded.

Not-Jack let out a slow, furious exhale. "Tell me your name," he ordered when he finished.

"What does that matter? How will my name tell you anything important?"

"Names are weapons," not-Jack said. "That's the first thing they teach you in the Time Agency. Names help you find people in the time stream. They hold stories you can use to predict what someone will do next."

"You won't know my name," Martha told him.

"So then tell me what it is."

She chuckled a bit and shook her head. She supposed this was the moment of truth. She looked him dead in the eye. "I'm Dr. Martha Jones. Who the hell are you?"

He hesitated, and she smiled. He who hesitates is lost. She sat down in the driver's seat in one fluid motion, willing herself not to think about her body burnt and broken. The sole consolation would be a swift death, with no time to think of the tragic irony of being killed by one of her closest friends.

She looked over at the passenger side of the car. "Are you coming or what?"

Not-Jack got in. Martha started the car and pulled away from the lot. A dinging sound came from not-Jack's vortex manipulator and he looked down at it. "I've been scanning for Gallifryen tech. It's not exact. We don't have a lot of samples for comparison of course."

"But you found something," Martha surmised.

"Do you know where a place called Bristol is?"

Martha sighed. She looked at her radio to check the time. It was just past eleven. "It's more than a two hours drive from here."

Not-Jack rolled his eyes. "Well I hope you have some good music to play. What's the popular genre of this century, assuming you even are from this century."

Martha chose not to respond. She just drove. She had a lot to think about. Gallifryen tech could just be the Doctor. He and Donna might be averting some sort of disaster or he might have been bringing her for a visit to her family and landed in the wrong city on accident. Both options were in character for him. It was also possible that the Gallifryen tech could belong to an earlier or later incarnation of the Doctor. Maybe he would even be a blond woman again, or one of the many faces he had thought he was when suffering from amnesia all those months ago.

One thing Martha knew it couldn't be was an unfamiliar Time Lord. Martha had asked the Doctor about that once, if it was possible for them to ever run into a Time Lord who in their personal timeline was before the war. He had told her it wasn't and explained a bit about time locks. She hadn't understood everything he said, but she understood enough to realize it was impossible. The sadness in his eyes kept her from pressing him for a further lesson on temporal physics that day.

Martha heard a click and her head snapped over to the passenger seat. Not-Jack had opened up her glove compartment. She reached over and slammed it closed. Not-Jack chuckled. "Well if you're not going to let me entertain myself you'll have to entertain me," he insisted.

"In your dreams," Martha replied.

Not-Jack held up the picture again. "Who's this," he asked. He kept his tone light, but she heard the steel underneath. He was trying to hide it, but the picture unsettled him.

"Sounds like you know," Martha said.

"Are you a time agent?"

Martha shook her head. "No." Martha didn't think she knew enough about the time agency to fool an actual member of it into believing she was one of them. Most of what she did know came from Jack, and it was far from his favorite subject of conversation.

"You have traces of vortex energy on you. You've traveled in time."

"If time agents were the only people who could travel in time there wouldn't really need to be a Time Agency, would there? You'd just be policing yourselves." Martha smirked.

Not-Jack huffed a chuckle. "You seem to know a lot of things about a lot of things."

Martha shrugged. "I'm a good listener, and I read the papers. Not the Daily Mail of course, but the quality ones." She looked at the clock again and wondered if Tom was still awake. She hoped he wasn't worried or angry.

"Pretty sure there's not a lot of information about time travel in your contemporary news sources," Jack said. "Twenty-first century isn't my main specialty, but I do know we're well before the first serious time travel advances."

Martha shrugged. "Maybe you slept through that day in class. I don't know what to tell you."

"You can tell me how you know my target. How did you meet the Master," Jack asked.

Martha felt her heart freeze, and a painful chill flowed down her veins. "He- she- they…" Martha stared at the road before her, at the puddles of light where her high beams lit up the asphalt. "The Master hurt my family, my friends, me." She bit her lip. "He tried to destroy my entire planet." She took a deep calming breath. "His wife killed him. I watched him die. He didn't regenerate. My friend, the- my friend, he burned the body. He wouldn't lie to me about that."

A small voice in the back of her head wondered if the Doctor would, in fact, lie about that. She gave the voice a firm dismissal and ploughed ahead. "The person you are looking for is gone. We're both wasting our time."

"Then why are you coming with me?"

"Because you have a blaster trained on me."

Not-Jack looked down at the blaster in his lap. Neither of his hands were on it. "That right?"

"Well I can hardly let you run around my time unsupervised. Who knows how you'd pollute the timestream in your mad search?" Not-Jack started looking around the car. "What are you doing," Martha demanded.

"I'm looking for the controls for this seat. I don't have any leg room. I'm more cramped than I was that time I had a threesome with-"

"On the side of your seat next to the door there's a lever to lean the seat back and under the seat there's one to push the seat towards the rear of the car," Martha interrupted.

Not-Jack adjusted his seat and then let out a sigh of relief. As he messed with the recliner he looked behind him to see if there was anything stopping his seat from going back further. He picked up Martha's medical bag and set it on his lap. He started to open it.

Martha snatched the bag away. "Don't touch that. You're not a doctor." She put the bag on the backseat. "Stop touching my things."

Not-Jack threw up his hands in exasperation and released a long frustrated exhale. "I've been stuck in more confined quarters with murderers, fugitives and assassins, but-"

"Isn't an assassin just a type of murderer?"

"You are one of the single most irritating people I've ever had to interact with," not-Jack concluded.

"Well now you know how everyone else feels when they're forced to talk to you."

Not-Jack laughed. "Look I get it. You're trying to keep me from finding out about my future."

"As a time agent one would think you'd understand the importance of not interfering with causality," Martha told him.

"That's easy for you to say. If you were in my shoes, with someone who knows what the future holds for you, you wouldn't try to get a sneak peak? You wouldn't be tempted?"

Martha thought about the man she had left behind in her warm comfortable bed. She thought about the future they were planning together and all the anxiety she felt about needing to keep the two spheres of her life separate. If someone could tell her it would all work out and she could have a happy marriage while also protecting the world from extraterrestrial and temporal threats that would be incredible. She shook her head.

"You get the answer you want and you stop putting in the work you need to make it happen, thus altering time, or you get the answer you don't want and you're trapped by the feeling of inevitable failure," Martha explained. "Two terrible options."

"And what is it you're afraid of failing?"

Martha looked over at not-Jack and frowned. "I'm not afraid," she told him.

"You just said you were."

"No, I didn't. I- Forget it. I'm not getting sucked up into some kind of headgame with you. We're going to find out the source of the Gallifryen tech and then you are leaving this planet and this century. Understand?"

Not-Jack laughed again. "I think I kind of like you Dr. Martha Jones." He held up his wrist to show off his vortex manipulator. "I ran your name through our systems," he told her.

Martha's heart started to race. "Oh?"

"But since you're not at all curious about your future you must not want me to tell you what came up," not-Jack teased.

Martha scowled. "Have you ever heard of something called the quiet game?"

"What's that?"

"Well how it works is, the first person to speak loses. Wanna play?"

Not-Jack answered by not responding, and Martha was able to be alone with her thoughts for the rest of the journey to Bristol.

…

Upon arriving at Bristol not-Jack revealed himself to be no less a competitive git than her actual Jack by declining to speak and pointing in the direction he needed her to turn instead of just giving verbal direction. Martha didn't complain and maintained her own silence, since she had nothing to say to this stranger wearing her friend's face. In time they came to St. Luke's University, and not-Jack nodded towards the campus.

It being so late, almost two o'clock in the morning, parking was free and the lot all but abandoned. Martha was able to select a choice spot. Martha grabbed her medical bag, as was her habit to always do; not-Jack brought his blaster. Martha frowned in the direction of the weapon. The silent drive had given her a lot of time to think, and she had decided it was almost certain that the Gallifryen tech belonged to the Doctor. Martha knew the Master was dead. She was positive the Doctor hadn't lied about that.

Not-Jack gave her a puzzled look. She pointed to the weapon and shook her head. Then she concluded that at that point she was being childish by not speaking. "Leave the weapon behind. You won't need it."

"Better to have and not need than need and not have," not-Jack retorted. "And I won."

"Congratulations," Martha said while rolling her eyes. "But leave the blaster."

Not-Jack narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why would you want me to do a thing like that? You seem to take it for granted that I believe your intentions are pure. Let's not forget you started out this venture with a lie."

"I was just trying to preserve the timeline. Doesn't whatever came up on your vortex manipulator say you should trust me?"

"Access not granted, that's what it said. Who are you that's so important your file is behind a firewall," not-Jack demanded.

Martha was shocked. "It is?"

"Don't act so surprised Dr. Jones. It seems to me that you have important friends in high-up places. Maybe I'm one of them one day in the distant future. Maybe this is all a trick and you work for the Master. I can't really know either way, can I?" Not-Jack held his blaster in a firm, ready to fire, grip. "I can't trust you."

The idea of being taken for one of the Master's flunkies sickened her. Martha shook her head. "No one has more of a reason to hate the Master than me. But he's dead. She's dead. Whoever they are is dead. I saw it happen. I watched…" She shook her head as though trying to dislodge the memory of that day, the memory of her greatest triumph.

"So you say. That's all I have to go on, what you say. It isn't enough. So how about you walk in front?" Not-Jack gestured with the blaster for her to walk forward. "Go on then."

Martha scowled, but she turned and started walking. Not-Jack gave her the occasional direction, but for the most part their walk was as silent as the latter half of their drive. They walked down a long dark path with scattered light posts sporting emergency buttons, installed to prevent needing to address the real cause of sexual violence on University campuses. They came to one of the older buildings, part of the university's original structure. There was a man leaning against the outside wall, bringing his hand up to his face and then lowering it again.

Martha's frown deepened as they got closer to the man. He brought his thumb and pointer finger close to his lips before dropping his hand again. As they drew even closer she saw burn marks on the pads of his thumb and finger. He stared off into the distance as if deep in thought. "Are you alright," Martha asked. He didn't respond. "Hello?"

Martha felt a gentle hand wrap around her elbow and pull her back. "What are you doing Ja- What's going on?" She looked at his face and saw an expression of abject horror.

"It's Retastis," not-Jack whispered.

"What's that?"

"It's a neurological disease," the horrified time agent explained. "It's spread by telepathic and empathic connections. Most humans don't have a high enough ESP to catch it from anyone they don't have a strong emotional connection to, but the closer you get and the longer you stay there the worse your odds."

Martha took another big step back. "How can you be sure? Why is he doing that with his hand?" She opened her medical bag to get out some PPE, but gloves and a face mask wouldn't protect her against a psychic plague.

"I've seen it before. I'm trained in psychic shielding. All time agents are. I saw an entire planet of highly empathic creatures get wiped out by Retastis in a few weeks. Once the infection overtakes you, you start… looping."

Martha stared at the poor man for another moment before it clicked. "He was smoking."

Not-Jack nodded. "That makes sense. He's bringing the cigarette to his lips to inhale and then lowering it again. The cigarette must have burned out hours ago."

"And when it did it burned his fingers," Martha whispered in a pained voice. Her heart went out to the man. "But how did he catch it?"

"He could be a natural empath. Almost every species has at least a few."

"But who did he catch it from," Martha demanded. "If this disease doesn't spread well among humans the carrier probably isn't human. An alien must be infecting…" Martha trailed off as she remembered something very important. She remembered a satellite in the sky and the sound of drums, four beats on repeat, over and over and over again.

"Unless…" She stared at the man with further pity. "If the disease is carried by brain waves can it be carried by RF waves?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Because I think you're right. I think the Master is still alive. We need to hurry."

Not-Jack nodded and headed into the building, now leading the way. "You know something. I'd appreciate it if you shared."

Martha took a deep breath, and with as little detail as possible began to explain. "The last time the Master was on Earth he used cell phones to control the minds of the human race. It wasn't a direct control, more like a suggestion, but the anchor of it was a single repeating pattern. Four beats."

"And you think the Master is using that same technology to infect humans with Retastis?"

"Yes. Maybe. I don't know. We're missing something, but…" Martha slowed down as she saw a man in front of a vending machine picking a quarter out of the coin return to put it in the slot. The quarter, defective in some way, rolled back into the coin return. The man picked up the coin and deposited it again.

Martha's heart ached for the poor man. She imagined how painful it must be to take that same action over and over again. No doubt his rotator cuff would soon tear if it hadn't already. She felt not-Jack seize her in a painful grip and yank her about so she was facing him instead of the coin man. "Ow! What did you do that for?!"

"Are you an empath?"

"What? Don't be ridiculous."

"When you see other people in pain do you feel it? Do you share others' joys?"

"Doesn't everyone," Martha demanded as she tried to wriggle out of not-Jack's grip. He held fast to her. "Let go of me!"

"But you feel it more than most other people, don't you? That's why you became a doctor, isn't it? When you see someone in pain it hurts you, so you just have to fix it."

"So what?"

"So you're at risk. You need to get back to your car and drive the hell away from here."

"No way!" At last she managed to tear away from not-Jack's grip. "I have to make sure the Master isn't here, and if they are here I have to stop them!" She rubbed her sore arms. She knew they would bruise, just one more thing she would have to lie to Tom about.

"I'll handle the Master."

Martha scoffed. "Even if I trusted you to do that, which I don't, I still couldn't leave. If there's even a slight chance I've been infected I could pass on the disease to other people. I need to stay within the contaminated area until we know for sure," she insisted.

Not-Jack sighed and shook his head. "Well," he said in a defeated tone. "I guess I see why he loves you." Martha stared at him in confusion, wondering who he was talking about. "Let's get away from coin guy. We're close to the source of the Gallifryen tech."

Martha followed not-Jack, forcing herself not to look back at the poor Retastis victim. She tried to think about something else, but avoiding a thought was a losing battle. Soon they came to the floor devoted to the theoretical physics department. Martha stopped. "Sh," she ordered. "Listen."

For a moment there was complete silence on the floor. Then Not-Jack frowned. "Is that some sort of musical instrument?"

Martha nodded. "It's an electric guitar."

Not-Jack led the way down the hall until they came to an office door. The door had no nameplate or any other sort of signage, which was odd. The sound of someone riffing on a guitar were now clear to hear. Not-Jack checked his blaster. "Stand next to the door so you'll be behind it when it opens. On my signal you open the door and I'll go in first."

"No," Martha responded in a harsh whisper.

"Don't start. We don't know who's in there."

"Exactly. It could just be some poor TA who stayed up late or got up early to grade papers," Martha insisted. "There's no reason to threaten violence against someone before you even know who they are."

Not-Jack shook his head. "I doubt the person in there is grading papers. A lot of people, including you, are in danger. This is serious, and I'm not going in unarmed. Now open the door and stop being so difficult."

Martha glared at him, but she yanked the door open. Not-Jack entered the room, and she followed behind him. Not-Jack stood in front of a desk, covered in scattered essays, behind which sat an older man with gray hair who continued to riff on his guitar. He glanced up, still playing, and grinned at them. "This is a surprise. Martha, Jack, how are you?"

"You… know us," Martha questioned. She took another step forward and her jaw dropped when she saw a familiar figure standing alone in the corner.

Martha stepped further inside. Not-Jack shot out a hand to try and stop her, but she brushed past him. She put her hand on the door of the TARDIS and felt her old friend whisper warmth into her skin. "Hello."

"What is that thing," not-Jack demanded. "Dr. Jones answer me." He shifted the blaster to point at her. "This isn't funny!"

"Nobody's laughing," the old man said. "Put that thing down Jack before someone gets hurt. What's gotten into you?"

"My name's not Jack! Who are you people?!"

"I think I can explain," a woman's voice with a Scottish accent said as a figure emerged into the room from some unseen entrance.

"And who are you," not-Jack demanded while the old man gaped at the newcomer.

"I'm-"

"How did you get out?!"

"Oh Master, did you really think you could keep me locked up forever," the woman said with a delighted expression. "My friend Dr. Jones here showed you long ago why that's a losing prospect. I just wish I'd been able to escape before you hurt all those innocent people. Retastis, Master? How could you?"

The old man jumped to his feet, dropping his guitar to the ground with a loud displeasing note and scattering papers everywhere. "I would know if Retastis had come to Earth."

"Of course you know. You brought it here."

"So… he's the Master," not-Jack asked.

Martha stared at the man. If he was the Master then the Doctor had lied to her, unless this version of the Master was from earlier in the timeline. Except that wasn't possible either, not according to what the Doctor had told Martha about the timelocks caused by the Time War. The Master they had encountered at the end of time had used the chameleon circuit during the war, and their conflict with him had taken place right after he'd broken from that hold. If this was the Master then he was after the year that never was, and the Doctor was a liar. All of this ran through her head in a second while she stared at the man and willed it not to be so.

"No," the old man snapped. "She's Missy- the Master. I locked her up in the basement."

"It was horrible," the woman shouted. "Oh Martha," she said. "I'm so glad to see you. We can fix this if we work together, I'm just sure of it. My wonderful doctor, the Doctor's doctor."

"Stay away from her!" The woman had started to walk towards Martha and the TARDIS, and the old man moved to intercept her.

Not-Jack stepped between the two, cutting off access to Martha for both of them. "My information said the Master is currently presenting as a woman," he said with a suspicious look at the newcomer and her Victorian attire. "If not her, who are you?"

"The Master regenerated," she said. "That's how he snuck up on me. I tried to stop him once I realized who he was, but he was too clever for me. He's always been too clever for me, and I didn't have my companion to save me this time." She looked at Martha with a plaintive gaze. Martha's heart broke for her.

Martha stared at her. "Doctor?"

The man scoffed. "She's not the Doctor. I'M the Doctor. SHE'S Missy- the Master. Martha, it's me. You know me; I'm your friend." The man took another step forward and not-Jack took careful aim with the blaster, keeping him in place. "Please Martha, you know it's me."

"Martha," the woman said. "I know I was a rotten friend to you in the past, but I am and always shall be your friend-"

"I knew I shouldn't have watched those Star Trek DVDs with you," the man grumbled.

"I hurt you. I hurt your family. But things are different this time. I won't choose him over you again. This won't be like 1969 or 1913-"

"I'm the one who told you about that," the man yelled, voice saturated with frustration and fury. "I confided in you! I told you about the things that made me feel guilty to inspire you to reciprocate! I told you those things!"

The woman shook her head. "I don't blame you for being confused. In some ways the Master and I are quite similar, to my shame."

"She's playing you Martha," the man growled.

"Care to weigh in," not-Jack asked.

"I…" Martha looked from the man to the woman. One of them had to be the Master, which meant either way the Doctor had lied to her. She looked at the ground so she could be addressing both of them. "You told me he was dead. How could you keep this from me."

"Martha…" the man said. "It's complicated."

"It's not actually," the woman said. "It's the simplest thing in the world. I wanted you to see me as a hero. Heroes don't help cover up for genocidal tyrants. I thought I could help the Master, and I thought it was worth any price, even after what he did to you, to your family, to Jack… I shouldn't have lied about the Master not regenerating. I should have-"

The man exploded. "But I didn't lie! You were dead! Your die-hard flunkies from your reign as Saxon used your ring to bring you back to life!" The man rubbed his temples with the heels of his hands. "I know it sounds ridic-"

"Even when you're pretending to be me you still can never admit to any fault, can you Master," the woman asked, shaking her head.

Martha looked up. Her gaze shifted from the older man to the older woman. Not-Jack kept both in the sights of his blaster. She reached behind her to feel the reassuring warmth of the TARDIS under her hand. She had to make the right decision. The man looked panicked and enraged. The woman just locked eyes with Martha and gave her a gentle encouraging smile. "Doctor?"

"Yes Martha Jones," she responded, so unlike the nasty way the Master had said her name during the year that never was.

"She's not the Doctor," the man said, almost pleading. "I am. I'm the Doctor."

Martha looked from one to the other once more and then looked at not-Jack. "I think it's him," she said, raising her index finger to point at the man. "I think he's the Master."

"Are you sure," not-Jack asked.

"No, I can't be sure."

"Maybe I should just take them both in and have the agency sort it out," he suggested.

"No," the woman said. "Martha and I have a job to do. We have to find the cure for Retastis and save all the people he infected."

"There is no cure for Retastis," not-Jack said.

"And YOU'RE the one who infected them," the man roared while Jack focused him in his blaster's sights. "I don't know how you did it from your prison, or how you got out, but you did this Missy! I have to stop you."

"No cure yet," she said, answering Jack and ignoring her foe. "With two doctors on the case we can sort it. As for you Master, prison is just where you belong. I'm sorry. I wanted to help you, but the lives of all the people on this planet are more important."

"Martha," the man pleaded, desperation leaking from his pores. "Don't go with her."

Martha looked at the woman. She smiled at Martha and closed the distance between them with a few steps. "What do you say Dr. Jones? Ready for one last adventure?"

"Martha!"

Martha reached under her shirt and pulled out a key, lifting the chain over her head. She unlocked the door of the TARDIS and with a gentle push opened them. She smiled at the unfamiliar interior. "You look lovely."

"Are you sure about this," not-Jack asked her.

She met his gaze. "We'll find the cure and stop Retastis from spreading. You got what you came here for. Safe travels agent."

"Good luck Dr. Jones."

Martha stepped into the TARDIS, the Time Lord following after her. "So," Martha said as she ran her fingers along the new, yet familiar, handrails. "Where do we look first?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! What's Missy gonna do? If you got all the way to the end maybe consider leaving a review, especially if you aren't logged in. Guest hits aren't being counted right now, which sucks for writers. Feel free to share what you did or didn't like.


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